The Visit
by Anansay
Summary: Sara needs answers. Grissom won't give them to her. She goes to the other source.
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: The Visit  
AUTHOR: Anansay  
DATE: July 29, 2003  
SUMMARY: Sara needs answers. Grissom won't give them to her. She decides to visit the other source.  
RATING: PG-13  
SPOILERS: Up to Lady Heather's Box  
DISCLAIMERS: These characters are owned by CSI and its affiliates. No money is being made from this story. I merely borrow the characters for my own personal pleasure... :)   
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I always wondered how the "two ladies in Grissom's life" might interact should they find themselves in a room by themselves. What better way than to have fiesty Sara pay the "other woman" a visit. 

The Visit

by Anansay  
July 29, 2003

Sara stood in front of the massive doors and experienced the first twinge of doubt. Once again, her mind had created a scenario and her feet had followed it. She needed answers and this seemed the only way to get them. Questioning Grissom directly wouldn't work, his perfection in the art of obtuse answers had shown itself many times over the years to ensure it was a quality that he wasn't ready to relinquish any time soon. So she decided to go to the next available source for information.  
Taking deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked loudly.   
Nothing happened immediately and she was about to knock again when the door suddenly moved inward. It opened onto an opulent foyer easily the size of half her own apartment. The muted orange lighting lent it a rich and luxurious atmosphere. And in the doorway stood the means to the answers Sara suddenly thought she might not want to know.   
The woman known as Lady Heather stood gazing expectantly at her, a small smile bordering on patronizing seemed permanently etched on her face and her eyes – blue like Grissom's – regarded her in a slow methodical manner from her head to her feet and back up again before she took a step back and waved her arm welcoming Sara into her abode. "Welcome, to Lady Heather's Domain," she said with an air of self-importance.   
Sara gulped. This woman took her breath away. Her dark brown hair coming down flat to her shoulders to frame her face beneath bangs, reminiscent of a gothic portrait of dark civility. Her attire left not much to the imagination as her bare shoulders kept the tight fitting black silk dress from actually touching the floor and beneath that peeked out a set of stiletto heels that made Sara wince at the mere thought of having to walk in such a contraption. Lady Heather was the epitome of a sexual woman. No wonder Grissom had become smitten with her. What chance could plain old Sara have against this?   
Lady Heather was patiently waiting for her guest to become accustomed to the place and the noises that inevitably filtered from the stairs and various closed doors. "Let me guess, your work requires that you put on a strong front of feminine strength in an atmosphere dominated by males," Lady Heather began. "You'd like to give in sometimes? Rest your strength?"  
"What?" Sara blinked and asked.   
Lady Heather smiled, a knowing smile meant to assuage certain fears that naturally arose with the idea of submission in such a individualistic society. There were few places – besides the solitary home – where one could feel free to release themselves. "Come with me and we'll talk. Find something that might allow you to feel the freedom we all so crave." Lady Heather turned and began climbing the stairs. Sara watched her until the woman turned and gave her "what are you waiting for?" look. Swallowing again, Sara followed her.   
The woman intimidated Sara. Her self-assurance wasn't something Sara was used to seeing in women. It was refreshing on one hand to know such women still existed and yet to interrogate – er, converse – with one on such a delicate topic as Sara had in mind it was positively nerve wracking. This woman could very easily overpower her with her keen deductions of observation.   
Lady Heather's office was no less extravagant than the rest of the house. A mantled fireplace with artifacts depicting various sexual appetites. The walls were dark paneled wood stained a luscious crimson. A deep carpet cushioned their steps and made Sara feel as though she were walking on air. A massive oak desk dominated the room with its antique banker's lamp on it. Neatly organized piles of papers and folders lay on one corner and a computer screen sat on the other corner.   
But Lady Heather did not sit at her desk. Instead, she stood by a black leather couch, a hand resting on an armrest, a clear invitation for a sit-down chat. Sara regarded the scantily clad woman and the overly stuffed couch with concern but decided her questions warranted such uncertain proximity. She stood by the couch, looking from it to Lady Heather and they both sat down at the same time.   
"So, what kind of entertainment brings to you my little hideaway from the world, Ms?"  
"Sidle. Sara Sidle."  
"Sara" Lady Heather said her name as though trying it out, testing it. "Hmm"  
Sara stared at the woman, uncomprehending the sudden interest.   
"So, what are you looking for, Ms. Sidle?"  
Sara looked at the woman before her, her intelligent blue eyes asking more than the words coming from her lips. She felt like she were under a microscope being examined ruthlessly like an insect. She wondered how Grissom could have felt comfortable under such a stare. "Actually, I'm here for some answers."  
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly and there was the minutest shift in perspective. "Answers," she repeated the word. "What kind of answers?"   
There it was, the plunge. Just jump. "A few months ago, there were a couple of murders that were related to your business. Before that a woman who worked here was found murdered. And there was a man who came to investigate them. His name was Gil Grissom."  
Lady Heather smiled and leaned back. She looked at Sara with a renewed sense of interest and curiosity. "Yes, I do remember him. A very enigmatic man Mr. Grissom. You know him?"  
"I work with him."  
"Ahh, I see."  
Sara raised an eyebrow; an interesting response. "What do you see?"  
"That there's more there than just a working relationship."  
Sara sat back. "What do you mean?"  
Lady Heather eyed Sara up and down, letting her eyes roam leisurely over her body as though admiring it. "Ms. Sidle, why are you here?"  
Sara pursed her lips. It was here, the moment of truth and she suddenly felt very ashamed form coming here and demanding such personal information from this woman. If Grissom had that was his choice.   
"Ms. Sidle?"  
"Did you sleep with him?" There, it was out.   
Lady Heather's smile faded from her face and behind it came a sort of sadness, a reminiscing on good times that would never happen come again. And then the smile came back, but it was different, it was cunning. "What do you think?"  
"I'd like to think he didn't. Grissom wouldn't do that, sleep with a suspect."  
"Then why are you here?"  
Sara looked away. It had seemed so simple back in her apartment, in her familiar surrounding. Here, in this place, where Grissom might have sat, it now seemed preposterous that she should be here. "I need to know."  
"Why?"  
Her directness was refreshing yet intimidating. There was no hiding, no subtle rebuffs, or bending of the truth.   
Sara shook her head. There wasn't really a coherent answer. It was a need that had been growing inside her since she'd heard the rumors. "I don't know."  
"Really?"  
She turned her head. "Yes."  
"Hmm" Lady Heather rose, walked to the mantle and picked up a black mask with a long pointed nose. Turning, she caught Sara's stare. "Do you know what this is?"  
"A mask."  
Lady Heather smiled. "Yes, a mask. This is one that we can put on and take off and people know when we're wearing it." She placed it in front her face for a moment and then pulled it aside, smiling. "See? It's like black and white."  
Sara watched the demonstration and a feeling began to grow in her. She stood up, wanting to be level with the woman. "What's your point?"  
"This is a mask that people have made in order to become someone else. The thing is, with this mask, those around know what the person is trying to do and they accept it. But everyone that we meet wears masks, we just don't see them. Or maybe we do but we play the game because we – ourselves – are wearing masks. To call another on it would be to draw attention to ourselves. That would be bad."  
"And?" Sara crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on a foot.   
Lady Heather sighed and replaced the mask. "Your friend, Mr. Grissom, had picked up that particular mask when he was here."  
_He'd been here, in this room. _Sara's eyes scanned the room, seeing it as something different now knowing that he'd been here. And what had they done? With the mask? She stopped the thought from going further and shook her head. "I don't understand."  
Lady Heather walked to the middle of the room. "In this place, we have masks that people can wear to hide who they are. But these masks also allow their true selves to come out. Because one mask hides the other."  
Sara's stomach was beginning to feel funny.   
"In this place, we help people to come out from behind their masks, to accept themselves for who they are," Lady Heather continued, her voice low and deliberate as though teaching a young child about life. "Your friend Grissom, he wears masks. All the time. Everybody around him wears masks. After a while, wearing the mask becomes hard and wearisome, its weight drags the person down. They long to take it off, but doing so only at home defeats the purpose. No one is there to appreciate the real person. When Mr. Grissom was here with me, his mask came off. I helped him to take it off. He didn't like it." She looked away. "Maybe he didn't like what he saw"  
"What do you mean?" all these words with their obscure meanings were beginning to wear thin on Sara who was accustomed to coming right out and speaking her mind directly. This woman could be both forward and direct as well as noncommittal and ambiguous. It was confusing. Having to decipher their meanings was something that she did with Grissom and now this one too.   
"The first time he came here, we had tea. I had laid out a nice lace cloth on the table outside and we had a proper tea in the afternoon. It was very nice. Just what Mr. Grissom liked. All the refinery of the english aristocrats, which he so longs to be. From his work as an entomologist digging in the earth and around bodies, he hides his self behind a mask of propriety. I gave him what he wanted that time and he allowed me to see into himself, even if he didn't really mean to."  
Sara squinted at the woman, her mind working around the dubious meanings to one which might make sense.   
"The second time Mr. Grissom visited it was different."  
"How so?" Sara was surprised her voice worked. Hearing this woman talk about Grissom in such personal tones was beginning to make her feel almost ashamed to have come here.   
"He was more confident. But there was something else. It took me awhile but I got it."  
Sara's head was beginning to feel light and fuzzy as she listened to this woman's words, it was like listening to Grissom's wife talking when all she wanted to do was jump the man's bones. It was a sickening feeling, made even more so because she _wanted _to know. "Why you? What did you do to make him open up? I've been working with him for three years and I still know so little about him?"  
"I can't answer that."  
Sara stared at the woman, her face showing plainly her disbelief.   
"In my profession Ms. Sidle, I've learned how to read people as soon as they walk through my door. It's a necessity so that I can provide for them what they need with prompt attention. Mr. Grissom was no different than any other man or woman who walked through those doors. I merely watched and listened and sized him up."  
"You make him sound like any jo-blo from the street."   
"Anybody who comes here is looking for something. I need to know what it is, even if they don't."   
"He was investigating a murder." Sara tried to reason.  
"A part of him was, yes. But another part of him was looking for something as well. He just didn't know it."  
"So you go into their heads and"  
"I help them to understand themselves. In most cases, I work with their sexual selves."  
"Did you work with Grissom's sexual self?" Sara knew it was a low shot but the words came anyway. And to her surprise, Lady Heather took it well.   
"In a way, I guess I did. But not in the way you're thinking. For one thing, there is no sex that happens here so it would be unethical of me to do that with Mr. Grissom." And then she sighed. "I won't lie to you, Sara Sidle. Mr. Grissom is an attractive man. It wouldn't have taken much to sleep with him." Lady Heather looked back at Sara, her stare direct and unforgiving. "Mr. Grissom stayed the night -" Sara flinched. "- and we talked."  
A breath Sara didn't she was holding came out in a short loud exhale.   
"That's not to say that we didn't come close."  
It was like being punched over and over again with barely enough time to recuperate in between blows.   
"But, it never happened. He didn't pursue it."  
"Grissom was more to you than just another person walking through that door?" Sara ventured. There was something in Lady Heather's voice that caused Sara to look at her carefully and she saw what she could only guess was a mirror image of her own tortured soul. Grissom had pulled away from her at the last minute like he'd done with Sara.   
"So we talked and then we had tea the next morning and then he"  
"He what?"  
"He called for the warrant." Her voice had changed; it was colder with an edge of pain.   
Sara understood. He'd betrayed her.   
"I'm sorry," Sara offered.   
Lady Heather looked back up. "For what?"  
"That he hurt you."  
She smiled. "It was inevitable, Ms. Sidle. It wasn't meant to be. Besides, I got the distinct impression he was running away. And I'm not one to readily accept those who are running, who choose not to face their demons. This is a place where people come to discover themselves, not hide from themselves. He didn't belong here."  
"He was running?"   
There was that smile again, the one that said much more than the words spoken around it. "Yes running."  
"From what?"  
"Need you ask?" Lady Heather walked toward her, swaying her hips in a suggestive manner.   
Sara watched her approach and stood her ground. "Yeah, I do."  
Lady Heather stood directly in front of Sara and her eyes searched hers. Sara could smell the scent of her perfume, a light musky odour. It was warm and inviting. "Hmm, first Mr. Grissom comes here and Now you." Her eyes were like being examined by a curious creature of the night seeing something completely new. Sara regarded her in the same fashion. "You come here seeking answers but something tells me you had to force yourself here. Tell me Ms. Sidle if you are so close to Mr. Grissom why haven't you asked him yourself?"  
Sara took a step back. "We're not close."  
"Then why do you want to know? Does it really matter then what happened here?"  
"It matters."  
"Why?"  
"Because it does."  
Lady Heather backed away, as though up close and personal had gotten boring. "I was right, wasn't I?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"There's more than a working relationship with you two?"  
"We work together that's it."  
"That may be, but that's not all you want, is it? You come here asking questions that Mr. Grissom could very well answer for himself. And yet you don't ask him, you come to me. Maybe it's not just those answers you're looking for. Maybe it's something else."  
Sara stood her ground and kept her gaze on the woman. That feeling in her stomach – the feeling of being under a microscope – was growing and she didn't like where it was going.   
"Why couldn't you ask him yourself?"  
Sara couldn't answer.   
"Why do you want to know?"  
Sara could merely stare at the woman. Those questions weren't something that Sara was willing to answer at the moment. Their answers held answers that she wasn't ready to face just yet.   
Lady Heather's face changed to one of bitter understanding. "Mr. Grissom doesn't let many people in, Ms. Sidle. He didn't let me in. But I went in anyway. I was rather surprised he came back, for one so accustomed to keeping his mask so intact. He came because he was running. I was a diversion. I made him forget."  
Sara's heart was beating frantically in her chest as her eyes met the open stare with a demanding one of her own, willing the answer to come forth. "Forget what?"  
"There's a secret he's hiding. One that scares him, like nothing that ever has. He's trapped. He doesn't know what to do. He's hiding deeper and deeper. And he's pushing people away. But there's someone that he finds very hard to push away. Someone who's in his life on a daily basis." Sara swallowed. "He doesn't like that he has to push them away. But he's a proud man, Ms. Sidle." She walked around Sara to sit on the couch, crossing her long bare legs, the slit in the dress exposing the flesh to the dim light. She looked up at the visitor, having placed herself beneath her. It wasn't lost on Sara who understood the basics of a dominant/submissive relationship. She stood in her spot for a moment, silently acknowledging the gesture and then took a seat beside Lady Heather.   
"What's his secret?"  
"That would be for him to divulge."  
Sara nodded. She understood. And she was pleased that Lady Heather respected him enough to not disclose his secrets. But there was still one "Who's he running from?" she asked quietly, staring at the floor.   
There was silence for such a long time that Sara wondered if Lady Heather had even heard her. And then, "Someone who came to him three years ago. Someone who stayed at a mere request from him, asking no questions. Someone who makes him think and feel."   
_She turns my world upside down. I love working with her but sometimes I wish she were never around, then I could do my job better, keep my head on better. She makes me feel things _  
And it was like an anvil had just dropped on her head. The stunning effect robbed her of her ability to breath and think. The room suddenly seemed new and her body felt heavy. And then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Oh." It was all she could utter to acknowledge the answer.   
"Ms. Sidle, Mr. Grissom is a hard man to get to know. He doesn't let people in easily. He's not like you."  
Sara turned her head. "Come again?"  
Lady Heather was looking at her. "He feels things as deeply as you do, he just doesn't show it."  
Sara was staring at the woman.  
"People know what you're feeling, like right now you're confused. You're also intrigued and angry and hurt."  
"That's rather obvious."  
"It is. But what's not so obvious is the depth that those feelings go. Whereas Mr. Grissom shows nothing, people know that cases affect you they just don't know to what extent or why."  
Sara fidgeted on the couch, looking away.   
"You come here head held high, chest out, dressed in black. You walk into my home like you belong here. You want people to think that you have everything under control but underneath there are fine cracks growing. You smile and yet it doesn't always reach your eyes."  
"I have to be strong."  
"Yes, you do. We all do. We also need to be patient. The sun always comes up in time Ms. Sidle, we just have to learn to wait for it."  
"You're saying I should wait for Grissom?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Sara cringed inside. They'd been speaking in tongues up until then. It had remained in the realm of the obtuse. Now Sara had brought into the light and showed Lady Heather exactly what it was.   
Lady Heather only smiled. "Everybody needs patience, Ms. Sidle. Even ourselves. Did you ever wonder what attracted him to entomology?  
"No."  
"What happens to a bug when you approach it too fast?"  
"It runs."  
"What do you need to do to catch one?"  
Sara thought about it for a moment. "Approach slowly, no sudden moves."  
Lady Heather smiled again, but this time it was filled with satisfaction.   
Sara stared at her while it seeped into her. "I need to approach Grissom slowly with no sudden moves."   
_Do you wanna go out for dinner? _Sara shut her eyes. She's sprung that on him suddenly. A sigh escaped her lips. No wonder he'd said no. He ran away, emotionally.   
"Oh god" Sara groaned.   
Lady Heather continued looking at her. "He's like a bug, an insect, driven by instinct and not accustomed to things disrupting his world."  
"That's not painting him in a very good light," Sara commented.   
"But it is painting him in a truthful light."  
Sara sighed. "I guess so God, I can't believe I'm talking to you about this!" She stood up and paced the floor.   
Lady Heather remained on the couch, watching. "Why?"  
Sara stopped. "Because because"  
"Because of what I do? Because he was here too?"  
The confusion swirled in Sara. She could only half nod, shaking her head. "I have to go." The urge to be suddenly out of this woman's grasp was too strong to deny further she stated that fact with less then stellar conviction. She stood there, staring into space, the emotions of the meeting offering conflicting theories on any future actions.   
"Of course." Lady Heather smiled again, rose and walked to the door, holding it open for Sara. They descended the stairs in silence.   
At the entrance door, Sara turned to Lady Heather, her eyes asking one more question that couldn't quite meet her lips.  
Another soft sad smile. "First time's free."   
Sara hesitated, nodded and stepped out.   
The sun was setting on the horizon, work would start soon. 

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

Sara walked into the breakroom and grabbed a cup of coffee. Her body was still keenly aware of its blow a few hours earlier and still resonated with the woman's words, but her mind seemed to have taken a vacation. She took a chair and a sip of the black coffee, its scalding heat ripping through her throat and bringing her roughly back to reality as she winced at the sudden searing pain. There was no one else in the room and the silence was deafening. Her thoughts screamed at her, all jumbled voices fighting for supremacy.  
_ He didn't sleep with her.  
He talked about her.  
He wanted to sleep with Lady Heather.   
He didn't sleep with her.   
He was running from her.   
He has a secret. He's scared.   
He didn't sleep with her. _  
Lost in thought, she was unaware when another joined her. She jumped when the cup was place beside hers and the person took that chair.   
"Hey," came his low sultry voice.   
"Huh! Oh, hey." Sara was jostled from her reverie by the presence of the very man who had engendered it.   
"You're here early," Grissom commented.  
Sara sat stiffly in her chair, only too keenly aware of his presence and of her newfound knowledge of him, garnered in a not-so-honest manner. "And you're surprised why?"   
His lip pulled up and he grunted. "Yeah, I know. This is your second home."  
She smiled in return. "Yours too, I gather."  
"I guess."  
They sat in silence, reminiscent of their previously silent conversations of the past. Sara began to wonder why Grissom had even bothered to join her in the breakroom like this. Usually he would just hide out in his office before shift started. The urge that had begun in Lady Heather's presence and her probative questions had quite dissipated and having Grissom here was probably the worst person she wanted around her at that moment. She needed him gone.   
"So, how was your day?" Grissom asked.   
Sara spun around and stared at him, her eyes wide. Her mind reeled with all the possible implications of such an innocent seeming question. First was the unnerving relaxed attitude he was displaying with her. The other made her wonder if he knew of her visit earlier? "What do you mean?"  
Grissom shrugged. "Just trying to make conversation."  
"Why?" The word came out with a bit more force than she'd intended. "Sorry, just... why are you so interested in my day all of a sudden?"  
"I can't ask you anymore?"  
"You haven't asked me in... a very long time, Grissom. I was beginning to think I was a mere worker here and no longer a friend."  
Grissom's face dropped, the smile disappeared, the eyes lost their luster. He stared at her like a kicked dog, and her heart reached out to him. "Is that what you think?"  
"What else am I supposed to think, Grissom?" Sara spoke quietly now, the trial of the past few months wearing heavily on her.   
Grissom turned his head, looking away from her, and sighed. "I'm sorry."   
Sara regarded the man before her with a mixture of disdain, confusion and empathy. Like a bug. "I had an interesting afternoon actually," Sara volunteered. "I went to see someone."  
Their eyes met again. "You went to see someone?"  
"Yup."  
"Who?"  
"A friend, I guess you could say. I needed someone to talk to, help me figure things out."  
"And did she?"  
"In a manner, I guess."  
"What did you talk about?"  
"Oh things, you know, girl stuff."  
"I see."   
Sara watched as Grissom once again folded in on himself, taking his eyes from hers. She grabbed his hand as it reached to take his coffee cup. "I went to see Lady Heather," she said.  
Grissom's hand tensed beneath hers. The room seemed to get chillier and the air to thicken. Sara knew he wasn't happy that she'd gone there, but he needed to know. "Why did you do that?" came his low voice.   
"I wanted answers."  
"To what?"  
"Questions that you wouldn't answer."  
Grissom jumped from his chair. "Goddamnit Sara! What happens in my personal life is my business! You had no right to go there and question her like that!"   
Sara looked up at him, his eyes bulging from his head, his nostrils flaring, his chest pumping the oxygen through is shaking body. His hands clenched at his side. And for the first time, she suddenly felt ashamed for her covert actions. She put her head down to hide her face.   
Grissom paced the floor. She could hear the hissing of his breathing and feel the floor tremble. "Jeezus Sara. I can't believe you did that."   
"I'm sorry, Grissom I just"  
"Just what?" He stopped and leaned his hands on the table.   
"I needed to know." It sounded plaintive even to her ears, like a pouting child in the corner.   
"What I do on my own time is my own business," he said in clipped tones before pushing himself away and leaving the room.   
Sara hung her head, her shoulders slumped. 

  
"Grissom" Sara was standing in the doorway to his office.   
Grissom was pushing papers around, his hands flitting across them, fingers reading scratched notes. He didn't look up.   
"Grissom, I'm sorry. I really am."  
"I can't believe you did that," he said quietly without looking up.   
"I know."  
His head snapped up. "What do you know?"  
"Uh, I know that I can't believe myself what I did," Sara stammered.   
Grissom stared at her, his eyes hard, his mouth wrinkling in barely held contempt before his head bowed again and he made as though to search for something once again.   
"Grissom -."  
"Don't. Just don't." Grissom held up a hand. "I don't want to hear about it."   
Sara stared at the hand. A wall thicker than she'd ever known had just risen between the two of them, its force a palpable entity that drew the life from her, shriveling her resolve to a dried pulp in her gut. The link was broken. What trust he had in her was forever collapsed.   
She took two steps back, turned and floated down the hallway on feet that felt not quite there.   
It was over. 

~*~

Grissom sat on his couch, a glass of brandy in his hand, his eyes staring unseeing ahead. His eyes were a cold steel blue, and the hand around the glass gripped it with a strength that whitened the knuckles. In his mind he could envision the meeting between Sara and Lady Heather, in her office, on that couch. He could here their voices, both of them, each their own melodious and sensual resonance. He remembered that time, though he'd longed to forget it, as a slip in his equilibrium. He had indeed lost his balance with her, a balance he had regained in time. But his balance with Sara would never be settled. It would forever be swaying this way and that, to and fro as he attempted in vain to put some perspective to their relationship.   
Lady Heather had, by her mere short and quick presence in his life, opened his eyes wider than they'd ever been. But he'd closed them again afterward, after she had refused his apology.   
He took a sip of the brandy, the amber liquid scorching his throat and making his eyes water. It was like being ripped opened, gouged from the inside out, much like what Lady Heather had done. That wound had scabbed over, roughly but it was there. He'd tended it mercifully, guarding it from further pain. Today, Sara had ripped off that scab and left in its wake a open, oozing wound of sensitive pink tissue, screaming its agony at every thought that coursed through his mind. For his mind was merciless at this time, bringing forward every memory of both Lady Heather and Sara. Dabbing at the wound, reawakening every emotion that he'd tried so long to dampen under the guise of apathy.   
He downed the rest of the liquid, staring into the glass at the last few remaining drops clinging desperately to the glass, only to drip down into the pool at the bottom. The little bit that always remained in the glass. Nothing was every wiped cleaned, there was always something left behind, a reminder of what had been there. He put the glass down on his table and sat back, his head suddenly spinning from the movement forward. His eyes closed and he rested his head on the back of the couch, allowing his body to go limp in the comforting cushions. 

~*~

Sara sat in her car and stared ahead of her at the rolling waves of Lake Mead. Instead of going home, the car had taken her here, to this little place of peace and solitude. Her mind was a blank slate, having shut down on her scurrying emotions until there was nothing left to think or feel, except being here. Her hands gripped the steering wheel until the knuckles were white and her muscles in her arms cried in agony at the sudden tension. A moment in time, just a small moment but it seemed to last forever. Her eyes closed, her teeth clenched and she pushed herself into the seat, as much as an attempt to push herself away as it was to just release some of her pent up frustration. Her body slumped foward, crooked fingers over the steering wheel holding her arms up as her head fell forward in a heavy sigh.   
In her mind's eye, the beautiful stone face of Lady Heather appeared, her dark eyes glinting with mischievous light as the corners of her lips dipped upward ever so slightly. An aura of the mystical surrounded that woman and it irritated Sara to no end to think that Lady Heather knew more than she ought to know. It was her damning ability to get to the core of a person's soul in a fraction of a second.   
The pain in her gut was a waning jealousy mixed in with a growing sense of regret. Sara knew of Grissom's intense sense of his own privacy, and yet she had violated that privacy for her own selfishness. Interspersed with the melange of emotions was a sprinkling of anger, anger that another had gotten through his defenses in such a short period of time, days even. In the years that Sara had known Grissom, she realized she hadn't even grazed the surface of the enigmatically enclosed man. It was this painful realization that had thrown her down in a fit of discouragement, a realization of her own failings as a fellow human being who had obviously missed the boat where interpersonal relationships were concerned. Lady Heather had stepped in and stolen the show, taken his heard in one fell swoop and left Sara out in the cold, so to speak.   
And yet, behind all this was a sense of gratitude, that this woman had been willing to speak with Sara and help her to see a side of Grissom that hadn't so much been kept hidden, but that Sara hadn't taken the time to really look and see.   
The sun had risen and was not heating the inside of the car to extreme degrees and the sweat had begun to drip down Sara's face. The car was parked in a rather shady spot, but the sun had found an opening. The windows could have been opened, but that would have meant allowing access to the myriad insects that flittered to and fro around the dry heat of the car. With a sigh, Sara started the engine and pulled out into direct sun and when her speed was at the right point, she rolled down the windows and allowed the brisk wind to dry the sweat to a sticky sheen on her skin. Down the highway the car peeled at speeds in excess of the limit, but the sense of flying through space and time was Sara's non-biological drug of choice, a natural high so to speak. With glasses covering her eyes, she spied the dim perpetual lights of the City of Lights in the distance and headed for them, for her home.  
  
As Sara pulled into her parking spot, the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle and her shoulders gave an unconscious shrug, to shake the feeling of being watched. Behing the shades, her eyes scanned the parking lot but she noticed nothing out of the ordinary. She grabbed her field case and stepped out, turning to lock her door when she spied a familiar vehicle that had parked in a far corner, a black sedan with a familiar license plate. As Sara stood and stared at the car, its door opened and out stepped Grissom, slowly easing his body from its dark interior as though he were afraid of what might come at him from the outside. His eyes too were hidden behind his sunglasses but Sara could feel his eyes on her all the same. It sent the familiar tingle of unfounded anticipation up and down her spine. Dissipating any negative thoughts that strove to form themselves in her logic mind, she took a step forward and then another until she was on the other side of his car, facing him. Grissom hadn't moved, just watched her approach. His face was blank, Sara didn't know what to expect, only that he had come to her apartment building and it was something he'd never done before. It was that one single thought that had propelled her feet forward.   
"Hey," came the familiar greeting from her lips.   
"Hey," he answered in return, the word carrying no more weight than its mere pronouncement of acknowledgement.   
"Uh, what are you doing here? My cell phone was on, you could have called me on that..." the words died on her lips as Sara realized she really didn't want to play any more games, no more games of lying, of pretending everything's just fine.   
"I needed to see you. In person. Not over a phone."   
"Why?"   
"Because what I have to say is too important to say over a phone."  
Sara's heart skipped a beat at the infinite possibilities in that simple statement. "Come in," she said, turning toward the entrance. 

~*~

Grissom had taken off his glasses and hid them in a pocket of his jacket. He stood in the middle of Sara's living room, a glass of water in his hand, the other stuffed into a pant pocket.   
"So, what did you need to tell me?" Sara said first.  
Grissom bowed his head and Sara saw his shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath and then raised his head to meet her eyes dead onl. "I'm sorry for getting angry at you earlier," he said, but the words came out quickly as though he wanted to get them out and out of system as soon as possible.   
Sara pursed her lips in a mockery of a smile and crossed her arms over her chest. Grissom was apologizing, apologizing for getting angry because Sara had gone behind his back and found a back door to his secrets. She had willfully disrespected him and now he was apologizing to her. "You were right to be angry Grissom. I don't blame you at all. I'm sorry for doing what I did -"  
Once again, Grissom's hand came up and silenced her. "No, you don't understand." He put the glass of water down on the coffee table and took a step toward Sara. She backed up a step. "I know why you did it. I'm sorry that you had to do it. I'm sorry that I put you in a position where you had to do something secretive like that just to get to know me. I'm sorry for pushing you away."   
Sara stared at him a long moment before turning away and drifting toward the living room window. As she stared at the traffic, she felt her stomach lurch in response to the pain in her gut. She spoke to the window. "Why are you apologizing, Grissom. You didn't do anything wrong. If you don't want me to know anything about you, than I won't. I won't ask, I won't pry. I'll keep my distance."  
Grissom approached her, his feet silent on her plush carpet. His hand hovered above her shoulder before falling innocently at his side with a sigh. "Sara... I don't know why I do half the things I do. People never really interested me. I didn't care about them. After I'd watched them and studied them from afar for a time, they bored me. So I turned to insects. There are so many varieties I thought I could never be bored with them." He came around to stand beside her, to better see her face. "I forgot what I knew about people. I forgot about some of the strange things they sometimes do when they feel stressed."  
"What are you trying to say, Grissom?"  
"That's just it. I'm trying to say something but you're not understanding and I don't know how to say it so that you would. I know all about the mating habits of so many different kinds of insects, but... I don't know what to do myself. I don't know what to do."   
Sara turned her head and met his eyes. "I wish you did."  
"Me too."  
"Cause I'm tired of doing all the work." Sara paused a moment before an idea struck her. "In all you insect mating lore, is there a species where one sex does all the work in acquiring a mate?"   
Grissom frowned and stared at Sara, his eyes becoming the busy traffic section of cluttered information. "Uh no."  
"So in all species, both sexes must perform certain activities in order to attract a mate...?"  
"Yes."  
"So, what does a male of the homo sapiens species do to attract a mate?"  
Grissom's face showed his surprise and shock as clearly as a still pond on a cloudless day. His eyes glazed over as he went over in his mind through the dusty files of decades ago. "I... "  
"Think Grissom."  
Grissom shook his head. "I really don't know Sara."  
"Any male of any species - animal or insect - usually shows their strength and abilities, their prowess as a member of that particular species, to a receptive female so that she might choose him over another male."  
Grissom nodded his head slowly. "Yes..."  
"Well... isn't that what you've been doing?"  
"No."  
"Really?"  
"What are you getting at Sara?"  
"Ten years ago, you strutted up on stage with your notes in your hand and proceeded to wow us students with your extensive knowledge of entomology. You had used the greatest asset of the human species - the brain - and created an aura around yourself of an intensely strong-minded male human." Grissom's face begun to flush beneath the collar of his shirt. "For some of us, I'm sure, bugs weren't all that impressive, but to me... you embodied what it meant to use all that was available to us as a species and you used it well."  
"Sara, I... I don't know what to say.  
"And then, of course, there's the other thing..."  
Grissom squinted his eyes at her as he waited for the next blow. "What 'other thing'?"  
"Your intensity in your chosen field allowed your body to produce pheromones which only served to solidify my desires for you."   
Grissom was suddenly overcome by a coughing spell that had him backing away from his and plunking himself down on her couch. It took a few minutes until he could meet her eyes again. "What?"  
"You heard me."  
"I did but I don't think I understood you."  
Sara sat down beside him on the couch and stared at him directly. He'd tried to be as honest as he could and Sara had decided that she'd be as well, but in terms that hopefully Grissom could understand. "What did you understand?"  
"I have no idea."  
"C'mon, you must have some idea."  
"That... your attraction to me is purely physical... brought on by my... pheromones...?" Grissom winced as the words pushed themselves from his mouth.   
"That's part of it, yes."  
"Part of it?"  
Sara took his hand and held it between hers, her thumb rubbed little circles on his palm. "That was my initial reaction to you. Our talks in the diner, getting to know you, made it go deeper than just the physical. It became emotional. I not only wanted to, uh, fuck you, but I also wanted to be with you in other ways. I wanted to wake up in the morning snuggled against you. I wanted to take walks hand in hand with you. I wanted to introduce you to my parents. I wanted to look into your eyes and see those same feelings for me. I just wanted to be with you.   
"But you knew that already. That's why you called me to come here. You knew I would. You knew I'd drop everything if you just gave the word. You gave me hope, Grissom." Sara's face had dropped her sly smile and was now just sad. She looked away. "You did everything right, you just weren't aware of it. You pulled me in with everything you did, and then you left me hanging." She turned back to him, her eyes blazing. "Don't ever tell me you don't know what to do, Gil Grissom!"  
Grissom stared at her, his mouth hanging open. "Sara," he started but the next words wouldn't come. "I - I just don't know -"  
"No! I don't want to hear it!" Sara cried, putting her hands over ears as she jumped from the couch and back to the window.   
Grissom joined her and put his hands on hers and gently eased them from her face. "Sara, I don't know what to do after that."   
Sara allowed her hands to fall in his as she stared at him, her eyes searched his face for any sign that he might be hiding something, either knowingly or without actually knowing it. She saw complete and utter confusion in his eyes as he strove to come up with something even remotely akin to courting. Nothing came to the forefront. He was as lost as he claimed to be.   
"Do you know that you already have me?" Sara whispered.   
Grissom shook his head. A tentative gesture. "No."  
"You've had me for much longer than you realize. All you had to do was show me that you wanted me. I dropped everything to come here, to be with you, on the off chance that you might do something."  
"I know, I know that now."  
Freedom. They both needed freedom. They were caught in a cycle of hurt and pain and it needed to end. It needed to stop, one way or another. A thought occured to Sara. It's audacity was as striking as its simplicity. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Grissom... I love you. And because I love you so much, I can leave. I wouldn't like it, but I can do it. I don't want to be a thorn in your side. I want you to be happy. I don't you to give me what you don't have to give. I thought I felt something when we first met, and I thought it was still there when I came to Vegas. I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry." With those words she turned away and headed toward the kitchen, a brightly lit, safe place where the shadows of her pain could be kept at bay.   
"Sara..." Grissom called gently, but she didn't turn around. "Sara!" he called again as he headed for her.  
Sara spun around. "Do you know what it took for me to ask you out?" She threw the words in his face. "Do you have any idea of what I had to go through to get enough strength to go to you and ask you to diner? I've never asked anyone out. No one." She stared at him as the words sunk in, their meaning becoming clearer with each passing second.   
His face registered his shock and understanding of the entire situation. And then images and memories came at him: a hand on her waist, on her shoulder... hers on his face wiping off chalk... shoulders touching, bodies closer than needed... glances that lasted longer than they ought to... They'd danced around each other for so long that he'd grown comfortable with it and just assumed that it would progress naturally with neither of them really needing to do anything, at least not him. That is until he realized he wasn't the young man he once was: his hearing was leaving him. What would be next? What woman would want a man who was slowly losing his ability to provide, who was growing old and falling apart? And regardless of his treatment of her, of his pulling away, somewhere she had mustered the strength to approach him and offer herself to him in a way that she'd never overtly done before. She had consciously tried to take their relationship to the next level, and he had pushed her away more violently than he'd ever done before. She'd said she knew what to do... then why wasn't she doing it?   
Because it was his turn. The words echoed loudly in his mind. She'd made a move, and now it was his turn. He saw her standing there, her eyes begging him to do something, anything. So he did. He came to stand in front of her. "You are stronger than I am, Sara."  
"Oh, don't start with that bullshit, Grissom."   
"No, I'm serious. You really are. But now it's my turn to be strong."  
His words poured over her with a thickness that stole her breath from her lungs as she waited to see what he meant by them. And then she knew, as his hands came up to cup her face, and he stared into her eyes, drawing on strength from somewhere inside him he never knew existed. His eyes memorized every detail of her features, her deep chocolate brown eyes that sparkled with a keen intelligence, her mouth that could bring a man to his knees with poignant truths, lips that could smile with such openess and laughter it drew a smile from his own lips in spite of what he might have been feeling. She was truly a magical creature that had transported him to planes of existence he'd only read about, but only in his dreams. He'd dared not even try to bring them to reality. But now she stood before him, her face in his hands, waiting for him to make his own move in their dance. Those lips weren't smiling now, they were slightly open and waiting for him and he could just make out the tip of her tongue in the darkness beyond. He brought his head down and touched his lips to hers. It was just a touch but it held within it years of yearning and desiring, dreaming and fantasizing. He felt her body shudder beneath his hands as she leaned into him, her hand touching his arm and pressing her lips against his. He responded by further deepening the kiss, opening his mouth and touching her lips with his tongue. She welcomed in him, drawing him in deeper as her arms went around him and she pulled him closer to her. He heard himself groan and released her face to wrap his own arms around her, feeling her entire body against his and holding it tightly there.   
A wall fell away. It crumpled at their feet. She'd always been his. All he had to do was say the word, or make the move. She kissed him tenderly, her soft lips against his as they moved together, exploring each other in new ways, wanting to know so much about each other. It was a long time before they pulled away from each other, their eyes still closed and their breathing fast and shallow. They rested against each other, their foreheads together, their hands still on each other.   
"That was a good first move, Grissom."  
"Thank you."  
Sara's body jiggled as she laughed silently.   
Grissom smiled. "We're going to be okay?"  
"You keep making moves like that, we'll be more than okay."

~*~

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